Shadows (Howe)/In an Old Book of Plays

IN AN OLD BOOK OF PLAYS
IN the far-off time of Anne,
In the play-book's golden age,
Did some modish Betty scan
What was then your spotless page?
Did you drive away her spleen,
As at chocolate she sat?
Did she weep at this sad scene,
Did she laugh and blush at that?

College dons, perhaps by Cam,
Or on Isis' classic shore,
Read but with the hope to damn
What your flowing numbers bore.
Rustic critic, Grub-street wit,
May have praised you long ago;
In "the public" or the pit
Did your fame the faster grow?

Have you known the green-room band—
"Comic Coll" and all the rest?
Held within "the Bracey's" hand,
Have you heard her scold and jest?
Old-World player, wit and belle—
Sure they are not all forgot?
Naught of them, alas! you tell,
They are gone—you perish not.